Star-Crossed
by thewhinykid
Summary: Of confrontations, revelations and heartbreaks. A Gryffindor, A Slytherin, and the Astronomy Tower. Of fate, they know little. Of time, they are unaware. And thereby hangs a tale. Dramione, Sixth Year, Partly AU.
1. Chapter 1: Confrontations

**Star-Crossed**

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters belonging to J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter series. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Chapter 1: Confrontations**

The pitter-patter of the raindrop against the floorboards, the groan of the winds swooshing past the Tower, and the sound of anguished sobs greeted Draco as he crossed the threshold. A flare of curiosity and contempt shot through him. For the past so many months, the Astronomy Tower had been _his_ safe haven, _his_ hiding place. _His_.

He did not like this... person encroaching on the one place he could let go. Whoever this intruder was, had to go. Had to go, _now_.

Schooling his features into his usual sneer, Draco approached the hunched figure, cautiously. His steps faltered when it took a shuddering breath and looked up.

_Granger_.

The uninhibited emotions in her eyes drained the sneer from his face, leaving behind incredulity in its wake.

Only once in the past five years had Draco seen Hermione Granger lose control of her emotions, and he had ended up with a bruised jaw due to that temporary lapse. Pushing aside the humiliating memory, Draco glared down at the quivering girl and jeered, "How pathetic, Granger! Drowning your sorrows in the Astronomy Tower, all alone. Where are Potty and Weaselbee? Too busy to lend a shoulder, I suppose?"

The remark hardly coaxed a response from the bushy-haired girl, apart from another sob.

Perturbed, Draco took a step forward, and sneered, "Well, I understand Potty may be too busy saving the world. But that redhead of yours, where did he scurry off to?" As an afterthought, he added, "Too busy snogging that Gryffindor twit to even care, eh?"

Draco realised he'd hit a nerve, when Granger took a sharp intake of breath and looked up with loathing in her dark eyes. A smirk spread across his face at her reaction. _Bingo!_

"Sod off, Malfoy…," came her weak attempt at a comeback. Clearly, Granger was too engrossed in her bout of self-pity to even come up with a witty remark. The sudden show of vulnerability made him hesitate, his reply lost in the wind crashing through the Tower, casting his hair in disarray. Draco only knew of the arrogant and condescending know-it-all, complete with her bushy hair and sarcastic jabs. This defeated and weary soul, with glistening eyes and quivering lips, was new territory for him.

Shaking off his concern with disgust, he continued his attempts at riling her up, sensing an easy win.

* * *

The wind crashing against the Tower, howling as if in pain, kept Hermione company. Looking at Ron and his over-affectionate girlfriend seemed to get harder by each passing day. Their evening sessions of sucking each other's faces off both annoyed and wounded her. The growing weight on her heart, seemingly unbearable, had caused Hermione to stumble around the castle blinded by tears, with her eventually ending up in the Astronomy Tower.

Sinking down to the floor, she had let go of her hold on her anguish, oblivious to all sounds around her. The frigid wind against her face soothed her agitated form, the rain a reflection of her state. Lost in her world, it took Hermione a few minutes to realise that she was not alone anymore.

But she could not bring herself to care. She was too far gone.

Not until she realised it was Draco Malfoy who was witnessing her vulnerable self.

"Too busy snogging that Gryffindor twit to care, eh?" sneered the hulking figure and a stab of pain pierced her gut. _Why wouldn't this prat leave her alone?!_

Anger pulsed through her veins, but all she could manage was a half-hearted jab. All she wanted was to cry away her frustrations. _Was a few moments of solitude too mush to ask for?_

Belatedly, she realised that a tense silence had descended upon the pair of them. Perplexed, she looked up for the second time and saw Malfoy shake his head, as if trying to brush off some unpleasant thought. But in the next moment, her moist eyes clashed with icy grey ones.

* * *

Most of the Tower was shrouded in darkness, the sun gradually disappearing from view, casting streaks of navy and red across the sky. The end of another day; one more day of failure passing by. A shiver of dread crept up his spine, and his head snapped up, his gaze locking with a pair of inquisitive chestnut orbs. There was confusion etched on her face, along with a hint of curiosity; but there was sorrow embedded deep in her eyes, overshadowed but not overcome.

Draco blinked, wondering at how easy it was to deduce Granger's emotions from her face, her eyes.

She was utterly innocent.

But he glared at her. A habit ingrained into his bones, an automatic compulsion to hate The-Boy-Won't-Die and his sidekicks.

"What are _you_ staring at?" Draco snapped. "Never seen such a fine specimen of a man, have you Granger? Hardly shocking, those Gryffindor prats look like miniature giants ambling—"

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy, and leave me the hell alone! Just leave!" spat Granger, venom and vehemence lacing her words.

A slow smirk graced his features, the thrill of this much-needed fight flowing through his veins, erasing all the defeat in its wake, albeit temporarily.

"Well, well, looks like the know-it-all wants some alone time," he drawled. "I should probably show some courtesy and leave, eh?"

The smirk still in place, Draco stepped further into the spherical alcove and leaned on the adjacent wall, deliberately.

"Nah. I feel quite comfortable here. So, I think I'll stay."

A spark of indignation flashed through Granger's eyes, and she scrambled off the floor, inelegantly.

Jabbing a trembling finger in his direction, she huffed, "You nosy jerk! It'll do you well to keep your abnormally large head out of my business! Wouldn't want your _father_ to know of your new-found fascination with a Mudblood, would we?"

Draco flinched at her words, irritation seeping into him at her cavalier use of the crude word.

It had been years since he'd called her, anyone, that. The creeping doubts had intensified slowly over time, propelling him into a state of confusion and frustration. His father's involvement with the Dark Lord had only heightened his discomfort and resentment for life that he was being forced to live on someone else's terms.

"Wouldn't want your vile father and your cowardly mother—"

"Don't you _dare_ say _anything_ about my _mother_, you filthy bitch!" he yelled. "Not one word, or else—"

"Or else? Are you threatening—"

"You bet your miserable ass, I am! You have no _right_ to say anything about my family, you—"

"Well, neither do you, Malfoy. Neither do you," she whispered.

In hopes of burning her to ashes, Draco glared at the wretched woman, taking deep breaths to calm his rage. Abruptly, Granger tore her gaze from his and turned her head, heading for the door to the stairs.

"We are _not done_, Granger," Draco bit out from between his gnashed teeth and reached out instinctively to clasp her wrist in his hands.

A surge of electricity shot through him at the touch.

* * *

A flurry of butterflies traipsed around her stomach as she watched Malfoy smirk and stroll over to the wall on her left.

_Strange._

"Nah. I feel quite comfortable here. So, I think I'll stay."

His words wiped away the fluttering, leaving behind righteous anger carving a trail through her. Hurriedly, she shot off the floor, trying- in vain- to control the quivers of rage.

"You nosy jerk!" she spat, "It'll do you well to keep your abnormally large head out of my business!" Her ire blocked all sense from her brain, and before she could help it, she bitterly added, "Wouldn't want you father to know of your new-found fascination with a Mudblood, would we?"

Confidence and triumph burned through her as she saw Malfoy flinch at her words. She was affecting him. For no fathomable reason, that realisation made the butterflies return.

What followed was an onslaught of angry and indignant words thrown back and forth. The storm outside the Tower seemed to have calmed, while the one inside surged on. The darkness cast dark shadows on Malfoy's face, accentuating the sharp features, making him seem more intimidating than before. Hermione felt a spike of dread course through her.

"Well, neither do you, Malfoy. Neither do you."

Her whisper cast a hush in the room. His defence for his mother had her scrambling for a few moments. But the nerve of him, to imply he had any right to hurt her, while undermining her opinions! _The hypocrisy!_

Exasperated with the conversation, she tore her eyes away from the angry, ashen depths. The ire in his eyes singed her skin, unnerving her. Turning away, Hermione tried to scurry away to the exit.

Fate seemed o be playing a cruel game with her. A hand shot out to grab her wrist, before she could escape.

A shiver ran through her spine as Draco Malfoy's fingers touched her.

* * *

Draco's grasp on her hands slackened, as the bursts of electricity surged through him when in contact with Granger's skin.

_What spell was this?_

Feeling his ire returning, he grasped at her wrist again and hauled her back in front of him.

"I am not done talking to you, Granger," breathed Draco into her ears, his body so perilously close to hers that he could almost feel her harsh breathing against his collar. The crackling electricity returned, making his head swim.

_What was this witch doing to him?_

Appalled, Draco shoved her away, taking in gulps of the cold wind, raking his fingers through his blond hair.

* * *

Draco Malfoy's long, pale fingers wrapped around Hermione's wrist, unsurprisingly cool against her overheated skin, and hauled her in front of him. Stumbling, Hermione crashed against him, hands clutching his lapels. She felt Malfoy holding her waist lightly.

Hermione's breath hitched, a blush warming her face.

All she had expected from her impromptu visit to the Tower were some uninterrupted moments of solitude; she felt she'd earned it after feigning indifference constantly for the past _so many_ days! Apparently, instead of peace and quiet, she was to tolerate the infuriating presence of a certain Slytherin who happened to hate her guts.

_Brilliant!_

What infuriated Hermione more than usual was the sudden- but _undeniably intense _- tension between the both of them. She was no ignorant fool- in fact she was quite proud of her quick wit- and the simmering tension between her and Malfoy seemed…suspiciously…

_No, Hermione! This is _**Draco Malfoy** _you're thinking about! Ferret boy extraordinaire, leader of the MudbloodsAreAbominations Club; a blond bigot, a prejudiced prat!_

She shivered as she felt Malfoy's cool breath against her neck, her body brushing against his. "I am not done talking to you, Granger."

_Oh Godric, then why the hell does this feel so…_**good**_?!_

Before she could catch her breath, she was shoved off.

His breathing was almost as erratic as hers.

* * *

Gazing out towards the Black Lake, away from the wench and the sudden onslaught of confusing emotions, Draco clutched at the Tower's railings. Looking out at the view of the grounds and the skies reminded him of the reason he favoured the Astronomy Tower in times of need. It was past curfew, almost nightfall. The vast expanse of the Hogwarts grounds was shrouded in darkness; a faint outline of the trees and bushes visible to the naked eye thanks to the moon, half-hidden behind swirling clouds. The rains had ceased, the winds no longer _howling_ past the castle. Yet, Draco doubted the storm had passed.

_The calm before the storm._

For an unfathomable reason, the thought cast a sense of foreboding through him. His grip on the railings tightened, the skin stretched taut across the knuckles- betraying his apprehension.

A movement near the Lake caught Draco's eyes. With the swift and keen reflexes of a Seeker, Draco scanned the shore, looking for the cause of the distraction.

The surface of the placid Lake had been disturbed, ripples cast across the normally still waters.

_What the he—_

"You seem ill, Malfoy."

* * *

Hermione shivered as cold breeze blew past her, sending a few of her loose curls across her face. She reached for her wand inside her robes, while silently observing Malfoy from afar. His rigid posture, his stony face, his pale hands clutching at the rails desperately.

_So tense._

Flicking her wand to cast a Warming Charm around them, Hermione wondered why Malfoy stood so still, so straight.

_So tense._

Sighing, she recalled that the change in the blond gut's appearance was hardly sudden. The haggard, pensive looks, the slipping grades, the disinterest from Quidditch- an unhealthy obsession of all the males and quite a few females in her beloved school.

No, the changes had been subtle; visible to those who actually _looked_.

_Brightest witch, indeed._

Mentally berating herself for having missed all the signs, Hermione's thoughts took a more troublesome turn.

_Could Harry be right about Malfoy, after all?_

_…No! No, the very idea is preposterous._

_Is it, though...?_

Shaking her head, Hermione looked up; the moon gave off a faint glow from amidst the stormy clouds. The Hogwarts grounds seemed ghostly in the pale light. Glancing back at the silhouette in front of her, Hermione made up her mind.

_Confrontation._

* * *

**My first venture in the world of fanfiction. In a way, I shall be writing this fic to see how I fare as a fanfic writer, instead of an obsessed reader. Reviews shall be appreciated ****_immensely_****.**

**Certain changes have been made to the plan of Hogwarts in order to write this fic. Hope that doesn't hamper the flow of the story. The Astronomy Tower was facing the Black Lake in the ****_movie_****, after all. That would be all!**

**Yours-eager-for-responses,**

**TheWhinyKid**


	2. Chapter 2: Revelations

**Chapter 2: Revelations**

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

**Dedicated to: CaptainSwanFanatic. Girl, you made me want to post this even though the response was a li'l disheartening. Hugs and kisses!**

* * *

Draco Malfoy's life was a game; a series of cleverly-planned and subtly-executed actions. He was merely a pawn, somebody whose worth equalled his use in this game of hypocrites; a pawn—dispensable and insignificant.

Draco had learnt how to play this game, how to manipulate the odds, from a very young age. At first, it was just that—a game; nothing serious, one of many efforts to make his father be proud of his son. Because all Draco had ever wanted was to make his father proud.

_Foolish endeavours._

Lucius Malfoy was an influential wizard—presumptuous, often over-bearing, and a narcissist. He was discreet and cautious, a master strategist. But, a proud father he could never be.

Draco could never be good enough for his _father_.

This revelation had thrown him to the winds. Life was now a jumble of actions and emotions, of clarity and confusion, of imposing rules and small freedoms.

Swirling black robes and hoods; wisps of blond hair, a warm, motherly smile; stark-white, expressionless masks; the stench of Knockturn Alley; cruel laughter and cruel, red irises; pain, _searing_ through his arm; screams, pleas, guilt, _so much guilt_, oh god, too much of it, and then—

Twinkling, blue eyes.

"Malfoy?"

Draco looked up, startled.

Warm eyes, dark and concerned.

_Concerned._

"Huh?"

_Nice. Real suave, Draco._

He shoved the disturbing flashes to the back of his mind, locked and out-of-reach. Clearing his thoughts, Draco restrained his emotions.

_Cool and indifferent._

"Yes, Granger. What is it that you want?"

"You seem...I was..."

While the witch in front of him fumbled with her words—the moonlight, cast across one half of her face, accentuating the normally soft features to sharp, harsh angles—Draco observed Hermione Granger.

She was fidgeting, constantly and relentlessly. Her hands were crumpling the folds of her skirt into those small palms, her—_was it Vinewood?_—wand held loosely between those slender fingers. Sweeping his glance upwards, he noticed her breath quickening, her parted lips exhaling puffs of air into the space between them.

Draco stopped closer towards her.

A draught—surprisingly _warm_—blew a lock of her hair into her face, whilst ruffling his.

_Her eyes._

Her eyes, betraying her restlessness, weren't flitting across the Tower. Oh no, her gaze was steady.

_And she's looking right at me._

Bemused, Draco tilted his head to one side.

_Do I make her nervous?_

Sixth year at Hogwarts was a year of revelations, indeed.

* * *

The Warming Charm didn't seem to be working. Hermione trembled, trying—in vain—to control her pulsating heartbeat.

_Deep breaths, Hermione, deep breaths._

The rapid reappearance of the palpable tension between them disconcerted her. One moment, she was facing a startled boy, eyes brimming with confusion and _so many_ questions; lost, helplessly lost. And in the next, an emotionless man—screaming indifference from each side, each hardened angle—stood before her.

"What is it that you want?"

Hermione Granger, perhaps for the first time in so many years, had nothing to say. All her words of concern, all her plans of confrontation—everything was lost, scattered to the dark corners of her mind, rendering her speechless at the sudden onslaught of Malfoy's piercing gaze.

She could _feel_ his eyes on her self—her hands, her neck, her lips. She could almost taste his curiosity, his desperation. His _need_.

_Oh, Godric!_

All she could do was look right back—unwavering, even when he took a step closer, meeting her gaze with his; steady, even when those frigid orbs flooded with questions again, gleaming with some dark intent that melted her insides.

"Draco...," she whispered, helpless against the overwhelming waves of desire.

He was so close, _so bloody close_; she could reach out, grab his lapels and pull him towards her.

Her instincts told her Malfoy wouldn't resist.

But she couldn't.

She could not do this, not with this boy, never with him—to hell with the infamous Gryffindor courage.

"Draco...," she repeated, indecision lacing her low voice, as she glanced up at him through her tousled curls.

A hand lifted up, tentative and hesitant, to her face, cupping her cheeks with his cool palms. She trembled, clenching her jaws against her immediate reaction. She felt helplessly vulnerable, her emotions erratic and uncontrollable. She shut her eyes, agitated, fighting the disconcerting sensations churning in the pits of her stomach.

Hermione felt one slight finger nudging her chin gently, urging her to look up, up at him, into his eyes. She shook her head, hoping against hope Malfoy wouldn't ask—

"Look at me, Granger."

_Darn it._

Her warm cheeks were now cradled between both of Malfoy's hands, his slender fingers—tangled in her hair, caressing her skin—sending quivers down her back. She could feel him tilting her head up, her face open, susceptible to his ministrations.

Cautiously, her eyes fluttered open. A gasp escaped her lips, her throat feeling patched all of a sudden.

Her face was perfectly aligned with his, their lips perilously close, his eyes dazed—almost drugged—and delving straight into her eyes, her soul.

Doubts assailed her, even as her heart beat so thunderously she was sure he would hear it. Her heart beseeched her to give in to her yearning, spurring her on, while her mind berated her on her absurd and absolutely _daft_ desires—the war between her irrational and illogical sides relentless and persistent.

And then, soft, warm lips brushed against hers.

* * *

To Draco, Hermione Granger was an enigma, always had been. As a child, she was a Mudblood witch to be scoffed at, someone who didn't belong. At least, she didn't belong in his childish, bigoted, Pureblood world. She was Granger—the annoying, bushy-haired bookworm who piqued his curiosity, the tomboy aloof from all the other giggling wenches.

Growing up, she was proud—with her nose seemingly stuck up in the air—and snide with him in her vicinity. Yet, she exuded warmth and affection around those two dunderheads; a Gryffindor with Slytherin tendencies.

_A paradox._

Nevertheless, here they were, mere inches apart, the haughty witch trembling in his arms.

His gut had clenched at her whispers, those luscious lips murmuring his name, _his name_, for the first time—void of the usual venom, and laced with promises of sinful passion.

Heady with the warmth seeping languidly into his blood, the magic of mutual desire crackling between them, Draco lost all track of his actions.

Her hooded eyes, shadows dancing across her visage; her clean, sweet scent, redolent of dewy lavenders and blooming lilied, of a lazy afternoon spent sneaking away to a Muggle neighbourhood with Father's House-Elf, Dobby, the aroma of confectionaries wafting through the warm, summer air; her soft, supple skin brushing against his, thawing him—he just wanted to feel, to taste. He wanted _her_.

With a tenderness that betrayed his indifferent facade, Draco Malfoy—for the second time in his wretched life—followed his heart.

* * *

Light, teasing, _undeniably_ insistent, Malfoy's lips moved against hers, again and again _and again_, until she felt stretched taut, her nerves frayed against the unadulterated waves of pleasure, of warmth, suffusing her lips. She couldn't breathe, couldn't _think_, her eyes clenched shut—all she wanted was more, more of those _delectable_—

Malfoy's tongue, sweeping against her sensitive lips, scattered all semblance of reality clinging to her mind. She was lost to her senses—the soft touch of their lips; the possessive grip of his cool hands; the musky scent of the frustrating Slytherin, reminiscent of lush grass and wet earth after days of cloudburst.

Hermione stood up on her toes, mindless with the sense of urgency, the need for more, winding her fingers through his velvety hair—distractedly noting the clatter of her wand falling to the ground. Clutching at him like a man drowning, she bit his lower lip desperately, the shy teasing and light brushes inflaming her body with want.

A wanton growl escaped his throat, his wicked hands brushing against her neck, her chest, to reach her waist and encircle her in those strong, pale arms.

Oblivious to all, Hermione kissed Malfoy with all the fervour and rage hidden in the depths of her heart, with passion that was heartbreaking to behold. With that kiss, she let go of her stranglehold on her emotions, her grief. On her _self_.

After ages, Hermione Granger felt unfettered, unrestrained. _Content._

* * *

A shadow flitted across the grounds, robes billowing behind the figure hurrying towards the darkness of the Forbidden Forest. The garb, its hem soaked wet from the waters of the Lake, hung heavily from his frame, hindering the frantic pace. A frown adorning the pale face at the restriction, the wizard's grip on the Chestnut wand tightened.

Locks of ebony stuck to the heated skin, perspiration and rain drops running down his neck, as a belated Imperius Charm was cast on the dark robes against the drizzle, the lithe form slipped a crystal phial inside his trouser pocket.

Casting a glance back towards the Castle, a sneer unfurling across the face hidden under the up-turned hood, Theodore Nott walked towards the beckoning silence of the Forest, ignoring the sense of foreboding weighing down on his shoulders.

* * *

**A/N: Read and review, lovely readers, as constructive criticism shall be appreciated. Note of thanks to those who reviewed- Erbanana, apoorv and CaptainSwanFanatic[Hope you like this one, Pix!].**

**TheWhinyKid**


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